Under the Weight of Your Wings
by ymsg
Summary: Roy has buried himself in his work, all but oblivious to the concern of Riza. He refuses to tell her what he is doing, despite her prodding. When he's ready to give up, a phone call changes everything, and he finds that she may be more involved than he pl
1. Eavesdropping

**Under the Weight of Your Wings**

**Raeluvs**

_**A/n:**_

**Konnichiwa! I have returned after a whole two weeks of lapse. I was struck with a thread of inspiration around one or so in the morning, as most of my ideas come to me around that time. _Dream a Dream_ fans, I hope you're reading this as it's another FMA chap fic and I'm writing it for you guys. However, I get the distinct feeling that it's going to be relatively short. Not nearly as long as _Dream a _****_Dream _from what I can tell. Also a note: the spelling of our favorite librarian's name is Scieszka. In _Dream a Dream, _it is spelled Sciezka. This error is being corrected. Thank you.**

**This fic is based around Roy Mustang and… well I'll let you figure it out. Thank you for reading; please continue watching over me XD.

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**

**Chapter 1: Eavesdropping**

"I _am _working!" he shouted, frustration plain in his tone. A flurry of papers flew into the air, falling lightly about the disheveled desk; his hand, clenched in a gloved fist pounded against the hollow tabletop. Riza Hawkeye shook her head, smiling thinly, books propped up against her chest. She set them down atop the cluttered mess with a sigh; they were heavy books. So much research was to be done, Roy Mustang had told her. But research toward what? At this question that he would smile, his eyes casting themselves downward toward the floor, becoming distant and clouded.

"_I don't want to hurt you." He put a warm hand on her shoulder; she stiffened with surprise, an unexpected blush breaking over her face. Concerned eyes searched his face; what had he to hide? "Forgive me…"_

"Surprisingly, I can see that, sir." She replied with a smile. "Here's the most recent of files that Scieszka could write up regarding the note that you sent her." She felt slightly spurned that Scieszka had some kind of idea what was going on with her superior and she didn't. She had half a mind to ask her, but she didn't want Roy to think she was poking her nose where it didn't belong. Betraying him would be more guilt than she felt she could bear. But…

"Ah, great, thanks." He didn't sound particularly thankful, but his begrudging voice had left him. She wondered why someone who hated working, the greatest procrastinator in Central and quite possibly the entire military, now barely slept, ate, or left his desk, with the exception of seeing someone that was relevant to his research.

"Is there anything I can do to be of assistance?" she asked, hoping that he would let her in, let her help him. She tried not to look too eager, keeping her face taught, and blank. Roy looked up at her and smiled, shaking his head once.

"Forgive me." He answered, opening a book and scanning over it briefly, flipping the pages of Scieszka's notes. She searched for something to say, anything that could make him change his mind, or give her some kind of clue as to what he was getting himself into. There was a pause; when she said nothing, he simply stated, "You're dismissed, Lieutenant."

The warmth in his voice had faded; he seemed no longer connected to this world, lost in the black and white void that was the print on the pages before him. She sighed, forgetting her place in the sound of it, then hurriedly saluted, removing herself from the room. Her eyes brushed over the cover of his books, her gaze catching the words, 'Telephone records'. A thousand thoughts shot through her mind at once, but she couldn't place what that could mean. The door slid closed behind her.

He sighed, clasping gloved fingers about the bridge of his nose. He wished that she could understand, but he didn't expect it of her.

'I can't hurt her.' He reminded himself. 'I can't risk her in my own foolishness.'

'_You know, if you'd just ask her to marry you she'd say yes. And God knows you need a good wife.'_

"Oh, shut up, Maes." He said aloud, turning a page. His hand stopped mid turn, reflecting upon what he had just said. He sighed loudly, frustrated. "I may actually be overworking, talking to someone who isn't there."

"Maybe you're too close to the subject matter to see it clearly, sir." Scieszka hobbled in, arms filled to the brim with paperwork. Roy looked up, surprised, wondering how much of his babbling she had heard.

"Eavesdropping is a felony, you know." He offered weakly. She smiled thinly and dropped the papers with a thump on his desk.

"I only heard the last part, don't worry." She said simply. "These are in conjunction with the phone records from around four months ago you had me send up."

"But you already gave me the phone records."

"I gave you who called what department at what time and date." She agreed, and then prodded the papers. "However, I didn't give you where they called from or what sort of noise was picked up off the call."

"Background noise…" he repeated. "That's perfect. Thank you, Scieszka; I'll let you know what else I need when I can come up with it." She nodded, smiling and saluting and turned toward the door, her arms limp at her sides, happy to not hold books. She paused at the door, her thin hand resting lightly upon the doorknob.

"Sir, are you searching for…?" her voice faded; if he was going to answer her, then she didn't need to finish her question. She heard him sigh.

"Don't worry." He answered. "Thanks for your help, Scieszka. Dismissed." She nodded and left, closing the door lightly behind her. Roy smiled down at his work.

"All this fuss over my research." He said lightly, turning another page. "To think I'm doing exactly what Maes did… covering up his tracks and keeping thing secret from the people he cared for." He shook his head, chuckling to himself.

"Hopefully this information won't produce the same results."

"Well, did that help?" she asked, walking down the hallway; her notebook was pressing against her chest. Riza sighed; she nodded once, walking alongside Scieszka.

"Somewhat." She replied, eyes distant, drifting about the floor. Lost in thought for a moment, she was silent. She looked up and smiled hurriedly. "Thank you, for letting me…"

"Commit a felony?" Scieszka replied, grinning. Riza allowed herself a wide smile at that; she laughed softly. "Anytime. I'll keep you posted on what's happening."

"Thank you." She said softly. She saw a wistful look pass over her superior's face.

"If he wanted us to know, we would know." She said simply. "And eventually, you will know." Riza looked surprised, but Scieszka smiled to see a glance of reassurance pass over her face.

"Thanks, Scieszka."

"Anytime. And if you'll excuse me, I have more and more to transcribe." She said with a loud sigh. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Dismissed." Riza said, smiling. Scieszka saluted and moved off down the hall, already calculating what she had to record.

Riza walked a few steps back down the hallway and hovered outside of her superior's door. She heard him mutter a few incoherent phrases and smiled, shaking her head. She had no right to listen in on his work, shuffle around under his nose and prod for information, as though she was a parent, trying to protect a child; yes, she knew that. But just the same, she had vowed long ago that she would protect him. For that alone, she would betray his trust.

She turned, slightly satisfied, and walked down the hallway, as the phone shrieked from behind the hollowed door.

"Hello?"

"Yes, Colonel Mustang?"

"Yes, speaking." His replied, leaning his head against his palm. He sounded bored; he was tired, his mind drifting about other things.

"I know what you're doing."

The cold tone in the voice on the line sent a chill through him; a thousand thoughts raced through his mind.

"Excuse me?" he replied, his voice remaining neutral.

"I know that you're researching how Hughes died. Or more technically, why." Roy felt his temper waning. Words burned caustic on his tongue, angry, thoughtless words biting into his lips. Furious silence exuded throughout the room.

"'When your opponent has a caustic temper, seek to irritate and then make your move', isn't that right, Colonel, sir?" The voice was mocking, a sing-song tone sliding through the line like molasses dripping from a vat. Roy's eyes widened with surprise. That voice… was annoyingly familiar.

"Do you know who this is now, _sir_?" Roy was at a loss for words for a moment, an event that rarely took place upon the stoic Colonel. Disbelief spilled over what had been anger as he breathed a name that couldn't true:

"Edward… Elric?"

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**_A/n: _All righty, so ends chapter one! Chapter two is on the way so please stay tuned. Also remember: Things are not always as they seem and objects in the rear view mirror are closer than they appear. Ciao!**

**Raeluvs**


	2. Static

**Chapter 2- Static**

"What the hell are you playing at, Fullmetal?" Roy demanded, trying to keep the incredulous bite of his tone. A low, unmistakable chuckle slid through the line, dripping through his ears and setting every last atom within him afire with aggravation.

"It's just what I said, chief." The sickeningly taunting voice twisted slowly. "I know what you're doing and there are people who are _dying _to stop you." A brief flash of Hughes's face shot through his mind; charcoal eyes widened as a shiver snaked down his spine.

"The duty of an officer that outranks you," he began, but was cut off sharply.

"'Is none of your concern', eh, Colonel? Stop skipping like a broken record." Roy was silenced, his nerves shattering with frustration. "I know who wants to stop you and I know how they plan to do it. I'm even willing to ante it up without a thing in return. How's that sound?"

That _didn't _sound like something that Fullmetal would do. Sure, there was your occasional insult, the regular stepping out of line, but to randomly call in and throw accusations, true or not, in his face? Offer him a way out, no strings attached, about research he could never have known about? He had been away on a follow-up report in Aquroya with Alphonse; there was no way he could have heard about this data. At this, an idea struck him.

"Where are you calling from?" he asked, his voice regaining its regular tenor, the bite fading slowly to appear nonchalant.

"I'm on my way back from Aquroya." He answered without a hitch. "You should know that; if was your assignment that landed me in this water world." Roy's brow furrowed; he felt control slipping away once again. As he attempted to conjure up a suitable reply, Edward's voice slid into a quiet tenor.

"Look," the sudden, almost sympathy in the voice on the line surprised him. His attention was recaptured. "There are people out there who want to do to you what was done to Hughes." Another shiver sent tremors through his skin,

"Nothing new there." He risked in replying, his voice sounding careless. A half-hearted laugh was his reply.

"If you want to die, then I'll hang up now. If not, then listen to me." The perplexing seriousness in his tone forced trust in the Colonel. Edward or not, he would have to take a gamble now.

"Start talking." He thought he heard a slight sigh, whether one of relief, satisfaction or otherwise, he knew not. However, the simple reply that was stated threw him off guard.

"No."

"You just told me…"

"Are you really so dense?" came the sarcastic reply. "Your line could have been tapped. How many people come into your office on a daily basis? How many have their own key? How many are just smart enough to think outside the vat of idiocy within in the mind of a military dog for long enough to tap a phone, huh?" Roy seethed, hating with every passing second of silence that the kid was right.

"Yeah, okay." He replied, the answer indefinite in his annoyance. He could almost feel Edward smirk.

"Come to Lior."

"Lior?" Roy repeated, dubious. He knew when he said it that his tone was unsure. "They're in the middle of a civil war. If I just head out there, they'll think that the military from Central is intervene--"

"Other factions of the military have already arrived and attempted to 'shut down' the operation of a petty civil war. In other words, it's already been blown completely out of proportion." He replied, instantly. "If one more soldier drops in, no one's going to bat an eye." Yet again, he was right. Roy scowled for a moment, and then reflected upon what he had said.

"What do you say, sir?"

His thoughts drifted about the prospect. Head to Lior. He could tell Riza that he had been sent for a monetary inspection to see how the city was holding up with the civil war still going on. He would head out, squeeze all of the information he could muster out of the Fullmetal pipsqueak. Sure, it seemed easy. But the civil war in Lior sounded far too much like Ishbal.

The thought of Ishbal shot through his head, but with expertise he shoved it out, pushing it to the far corners of his mind and leaving it in the dark, not daring to venture there. After years of building up the fortress to guard his thoughts, it would not so easily be broken down. He jerked back to reality and replied:

"I can be there in two days." Edward sounded satisfied.

"As can I. Then it's set." A faint 'click; and the connection was severed. Roy held the phone to his ear for a moment more, listening to the distant sound of the thick, grainy static reverberating about his mind. All that separated him from the answers he sought for so vainly was this wire, this thin strand of cord, and static. Cold, empty static.

* * *

"Has the plan been put into effect?" a question broke the silence that hung about the shrouded sky, clouds slowly passing overhead as though trying to reach the sun, yet doomed to fade away before dawn. A slim silhouette leaned against the wall, the iciness of the stone not even prickling her smooth, pale skin. Shadowy lips, taut against a slender face turned so very slightly into the thinnest of grins, not robbed of beauty but still wicked with sin.

"It has." Another smile; words ceased in the hollow darkness. The beating of wings fluttered from afar, yet otherwise, there was silence. He who stood opposite her turned to look out over the latent city.

The gleaming eyes of Central were drawn to an exhausted, dilapidated close; the flickering golden sparks that had lit the thin windows had long since fallen to darkness. The city looked so helpless when it was asleep, he reflected. How simple it would be to do it now. No one would know; no one could ever attempt to explain. It would rest in a drawer, collecting dust, as another forgotten case file without a name.

He smiled thinly and shook his head once, as if in disagreement with his thoughts. Soon enough, the plan would be carried out. But here, in the darkness of night, that plan would wait. He turned and glanced over at her; she was waiting, expectancy plain on the moonlit face. His golden eyes closed, light casting over the glass that framed his face; a jagged grin split across thin lips.

"Then load your gun." She nodded, bringing her right hand slowly to rest at her forehead, a few faultless strands of hair curling over her fingers.

"Yes, sir."

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**AN- Hey guys: lack of reply due to grounding for getting a B on my report card. Explanation later. Winrythealchemist- hi, thanks for your wonderful reviews. The civil war in Lior has begun, Greed is dead, and Hughes has been dead for about 3 months. More soon, guys. ;**

**R**


	3. What is Beauty?

**Chapter 3- What is beauty?**

_'Lieutenant, I was instructed to make a monetary report of Lior's economic value since the outbreak of the civil war.' His tone was hard, his face taut, but completely blank; ebony orbs were smoky with uncertainty, clouded motives hidden behind a veil of secrecy. 'This office is in your charge until I return.' She nodded once, her hand snapping to her forehead in a salute, russet eyes glued to his._

_'Yes, sir. Safe trip.' Roy almost breathed a sigh of relief that his excuse had worked, but withheld it, not wanting to give away his intentions. His face remained the same, restraining from the bat of an eye. He turned, waving a gloved hand as a sign of dismissal; Riza's hand returned to her side and she stalked away, not glancing once over her shoulder at her superior who had faded away into the colors of Central, heading toward the train.

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Roy stared out the window as the train roared to life, thick gray clouds of smoke billowing from the head. It streamed past ancient wheels, caked with dirt; they cracked and groaned, creaking as they began to spin. The whistle blew and in a moment he was gone, Central fading like the faraway gleam in a window as night falls over the sky. Colors blurred as his eyes scoured the surroundings for signs of life as Central disappeared behind him. He sighed, a deep release, almost as though he was holding his breath._

What could Edward Elric possibly be playing at? The thought bounced about in his mind, more and more threatening questions appearing. How could Edward have known about his research? Why call so suddenly after a follow up report? How did he find out that he was a target for murder, and from whom?

Roy felt his breath coming in shorter takes, and he stemmed the questions in his thoughts, Images from out the window rushed across charcoal eyes, reflected in the amber glass. It was beautiful, a word he tended to use lightly. The sun shone over swaying grasses, thin and delicate flower petals wafted through the air, gently blown by the breeze. He felt a thin smile creep across the solemn features, the obscurity in his eyes softening.

"Beautiful."

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"First Lieutenant?" a voice drifted in from outside the door. Riza looked up from the papers that she was sifting through and glanced at the door, her appearance disheveled, her face disgruntled. Russet eyes were streaked confusion and a thin thread of worry shot swiftly across her face. She hadn't heard from Roy in over a day; he hadn't shown up at the office nor made any attempt to call. The phone at his house rang and rang, but no one answered. Why was no one else noticing that their boss wasn't there?

"Come in." Scieszka walked into the office, a few books resting comfortably in her arms. Scieszka noticed her expression without a moments pause.

"Sir?" she asked gently, wondering what on earth could have put her superior into such a state of irritation. Riza's hands returned limply to her side; a thin smile surfaced from tight lips.

"Hello, Scieszka." She said simply, not offering and explanation for her distress. "Can I help you?"

"You have a call." Scieszka informed her, green eyes slightly doubtful.

"For me?" she asked, confused.

"All calls for the Colonel are forwarded to you," Scieszka said, looking dubious. Riza merely stared at her. "The Colonel went to Lior for monetary inspection. He left you in charge." She reminded her. Riza stared, incredulous.

"What…?"

Scieszka looked truly just as confused as her superior was. She had seen the Colonel tell her that she was in charge just the day before. She brushed it off, continuing, "You have a call, sir."

"Regarding what?" Riza asked, trying not to appear too ridiculous or too eager. Scieszka noted the voice change yet again with expertise.

"Colonel Mustang, I assume. That's all they--"

"Put them through."

Scieszka blanched at the sudden anger and fear in Riza's tone. She nodded and prodded the second line on the desk phone.

"Thank you for waiting; you have been connected to his First Lieutenant." Scieszka said warily, casting an uneasy glance at Riza. Riza gave her an apologetic look as the phone was lifted from its cradle, taking the caller off speaker. Scieszka bowed her head and saluted, dismissing herself. Riza didn't notice as the door slid closed.

"First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, speaking." She stated thinly, her professional tone covering her nerves. "How can I help you?"

"Hey there, Lieutenant." Riza's heart leaped into her throat; words wouldn't come. It definitely wasn't Roy, but it couldn't be who it sounded like. A voice that now lingered as a distant memory in the halls that echoed once with cheer and obnoxiousness. A voice that cast a discordant note in the heart, a melancholy memory in a reminiscing mind. A voice that had once belonged to a heart of gold that had disappeared. Her face drained of color and her hands shook.

"Riza? You there?" The voice came again, snapping her from impossible thoughts.

"Y-yes." She whispered, feeling a limp appear at the back of her throat. A laugh echoed through the phone and the carefree voice continued.

"Look, I've got Roy down here and frankly he's not going anywhere, if you catch my drift." The casual voice turned dark; blackened humor stained his words. Riza's eyes widened, shocked.

"Who is this!"

"If you want to get him back all safe and sound, I would suggest dropping by. Hearing him screaming gets pretty old after a while."

"Where!" her voice snapped back to professional, trying to sound controlled while her mind was frantic.

"Lior."

_'Lior!'_

"It will take two days for you to arrive," the voice continued. "Someone will be sent to pick you up, naturally." Riza's brow furrowed; a thin bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face.

"I'll be at the station in an hour." She said firmly. She could almost feel his smirk on the other line.

"Good. Your escort will be waiting." The casual voice replied. "Nice talking to you, Riza." She clutched the phone, thin, pallid fingers wrapped around the frame, pressing it against her ear.

"Tell me," she breathed, "who are you?" a chuckle slipped through the cord between her trembling fingers. He breathed two words in reply and left her in silence, the line clicking dead.

In two words he had confirmed an identity that couldn't be true. Unsteady steps stumbled away from the desk; the phone fell to the ground.

* * *

A bag was slung over her arm, her shoulders hunched and rigid. Her finger rested comfortably on the trigger of her gun that was clenched cold in her hand. Riza waited at the train station, eyes glancing erratically about the mass of people bustling to and fro around her as she stood perfectly still.

_'Even in a crowd, I am alone.'_

Hemingway's quote drifted through her mind, bringing a tinge of a smile to her face. She thought of the vague note she had left Scieszka and sighed guiltily.

'_Colonel Mustang requested assistance. Will return with him soon. You and second Lieutenant are in charge._

_Good luck._

_Lt. R. Hawkeye._

She would never buy it, Riza had decided. Her thoughts turned to something Scieszka had said.

'_He left you in charge while he was gone.'_

Why didn't she know that he had gone? He had never told her that, she was certain. Scieszka and other office personnel believed differently, apparently.

'_What _is going on?'

She was sprung from her thoughts as she became aware of footsteps approaching behind her. Her hand tightened on her gun. She spun around, yanking it from her bag. She gasped at the amazingly tall figure before her, falteringly aiming the gun between his eyes. A distant pain dripped through her mind as his fist struck her head, and she saw no more, the faraway clink of the gun hitting the ground echoing in her mind, and finally faded away.

* * *

It had been one day and he had avoided sleeping, he realized, looking out the window of the train at the darkened sky. He wondered how Riza had been doing back at Central; he had left sort of abruptly. He sighed, tired. His mind needed a rest, he realized. As shimmering stars reflected on the amber tinted window, the Colonel let a smile ease over his face; and for the first in so long a time, Roy slipped into pleasant dreams.

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**Comments and suggestions appreciated ; is it too confusing...? Lotta love,**

**Raeluvs**


	4. Before God

**Under the Weight of Your Wings: Chapter Four- Before God**

**Raeluvs**

**A/n: PLEASE READ! **

**And I return from the black void that is grounding! My midterm grades greatly improved, and I have finally escaped the disapproving glares and 'not good enough's'. Between football season, homework and general lack of sleep, I have managed to begin this chapter. And I know that it is confusing- props to you reviewers whom are RIGHT ON TRACK. Some of you are and some of you aren't, I'll admit, but it will clear itself up (possibly within this chapter) **

**Light Recap: Roy Mustang goes into Lior after receiving a call from someone that is claiming to be Edward Elric (whether or not he is Ed is to be seen). He tells Riza Hawkeye that he is leaving, and yet she has no recollection of this ever happening. Then Riza receives a phone call from our mysterious villain, saying that Roy is in grave danger and her assistance is needed. She too heads for Lior and is kidnapped. The chapter ends with Roy heading off to sleep, not in any potential danger. Sum up- Everyone is being set up somehow; but by whom? Please remember that Lior is now a ways into their civil war, Ed and Al are on an unrelated mission in Aquroya, and though Greed is dead, Homunculi still run rampant.**

**Now onto the chapter. I hope that you enjoy, dear readers, as this is for you.

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**

Slowly, Riza's eyes cracked open, her gaze blurred, fuzzy; her head was aching horribly. Her hands were bound by rough, ragged ropes that twisted together in knots. She raised them over her head, feeling with trembling fingers dried blood at the base of her neck.

"Ouch." She murmured to herself, just to hear the sound of her own voice for a moment. She blinked a few times, trying to clear the blurry scene locked into her eyes. The walls were stone, cold and gray, chiseled with dents and burn marks. At the other end of the room, some feet from her, was a wooden door that she assumed was locked, and to her right was another door, also presumably locked. She sighed, exasperated.

"Where in the hell am I…?" she muttered.

"Well if I told you, wouldn't that ruin the fun?" A sing-song voice from her right sent a cold shiver down her spine. Her head whipped around so fast that she felt dizzy; her eyes clamped together, trying to steady herself. Her head pounded painfully as she pried her eyes open once more and took in the person that leaned against the door.

He was tall, dressed in sleek, black leather pants and an according shirt that frayed at the sleeves, light glinting off of his pointed boots that looked almost sharp enough to draw blood. His arms were muscular, not to the scale of Major Armstrong, she noted, but built up just the same. His chest was full beneath the shirt, a white collar around his shoulders. Golden eyes scaled her up and down, pointed teeth splitting into a smile.

"Hey there, Riza." He said coolly, as though they were holding a perfectly normal conversation. His words came slowly, carefully; he paused and enunciated each one, "Long time, no see."

Riza's mouth hung agape, her face streaked with confusion and pain; the color of her skin had turned quickly ashen, russet eyes dilating with shock. It was the voice that she had heard on the phone, and the name that he gave her matched his face perfectly.

"Maes… Hughes…?" she breathed, her words exhausting her as she used every bit of her effort to voice just those two words.

"Heh," he rose a hand and scrunched up the back of his hair, the gesture seeming so natural. "That's me."

Riza grappled with possibilities. No one could master a human transmutation; someone would know about it. The factors of one ran through her mind; none of these could be accomplished,

'Could they!'

As his hand returned to his side and he walked past her, heading toward the door across the room.

"You just sit tight now," he said smoothly, "Find something to entertain yourself til I get back, 'kay?"

"Wait!" she exclaimed. "Where is Colonel Mustang!" He stopped and turned back to her.

"Well, didn't he tell you where he was going?" he replied with a question of his own. She bit her lip, confused again.

"That's what I've heard, but I have no recollection of him telling me any such thing." She snapped.

"Any do you want to know why?" He approached her; his hand brushed her hair; she cringed, silent. "Well? Do you?" She nodded once, her face staid.

"Let's just say I have a friend who can change his skin." He said softly, turning to go. She was startled, her mind connecting the pieces of the puzzle presented to her. As his hand passed by her face, her eyes widened; a sickened gasp twisted in her chest.

"What is that…?" she breathed, a bead of sweat sliding down the side of her face. He turned back, looking at her pointedly. A wicked grin slid over his face as he raised his hand.

"Oh, this?" he asked, showing it to her. An image was tattooed upon the strong, firm surface; a dragon that seemed to be engulfing its own tail, inked in blood. He leaned closely into her face, his golden, glimmering eyes matching hers.

"This is the symbol of my sin."

* * *

Roy stepped solidly off of the train, a thin briefcase locked within gloved fingers. He wasn't wearing his military uniform; he wanted to blend in with the civilians to the best of his ability without being viewed as a potential threat. He looked around blankly, wondering if the Fullmetal Idiot was going to meet him here or not. After mulling around stupidly for a few moments, he growled and headed off to a nearby bar; his footsteps echoed as he walked down the center of the street through the ancient, empty town.

The bartender sat alone at the bar, an older man with a graying black moustache, his eyes narrowed to tired slits as he stared at the silent radio, deeply set into his tanned skin. Beads of sweat lined the creases of his forehead beneath his crimson bandana; he looked up as Roy sat casually at the stool on the other side of the bar.

"One shot, and if no one joins me, keep 'em coming." He growled, looking angrily around at the empty road, its only inhabitant being the dust in the wind. The bartender nodded, grabbing the only bottle that he had left from the back shelf, his face split into a toothy grin.

"Been a long time since someone's stopped by here." He said appreciatively, setting the thin rimmed glass down before him. Roy smiled wryly, looking into the pale orange liquor in his glass.

"Yeah, looks pretty deserted around here." Roy commented, gazing about. Admitting this was really ticking him off; he didn't see Edward anywhere in sight. "Heard this place was in the middle of a war; where is everyone?" he asked, confused.

"Fighting's at a standstill." The man sounded depressed rather than thankful.

"That bad?" Roy queried. The man sighed, looking out over the town. The walls of the buildings were old and cracked; windows were shattered, glass lining the curbs of the narrow streets.

"It's not the end of the battle. People are hiding, probably underground or have flown the city; the military's gone out to restock ammunition and rations," he said wearily, his age showing through onto his face. "It's just the calm before the storm. Lior is going to be as distant a memory as Ishbal." Roy's head snapped instinctively in the other direction, his eyes diverting down to the floor. He cleared his throat, changing the subject.

"Out of curiosity, have you seen a little half pint and a walking garbage can?" he asked, holding up a hand to display the minute height of his subordinate. The man thought about it for a moment as Roy drained his glass.

"Well, seeing a shortstop traveling with a tall metal suit of armor isn't hard to forget." He said thoughtfully, reflecting. Roy looked up, hopefully. The man's face lit up with remembrance. "Yeah, I remember those two! Haven't seen 'em though. Not lately; a year or so ago back when Cornello was in power, but since then…" Roy slammed his glass down hard on the counter.

"Hit me."

About four shots later, Roy was starting to feel sort of lightheaded; he passed the glass back. The bartender smiled and started to clean it out, an old worn cloth drying out the creases.

"I take it you were supposed to meet him?" he asked kindly. Roy nodded, looking infuriated.

"Anywhere a guy can get a room around here?" he asked. The man looked down the road. A large temple, at least three stories in height, loomed ominously over the town.

"That place has been deserted for a while; that's where most people go when they want a free room." He said heavily.

"I can pay," Roy assured him, trying not to give him the wrong impression, but the man shook his head.

"I mean that's the only place we have; there's no one there to pay anyway." He replied. "Maybe your friend will be waiting for you there."

"Why do you say that?" Roy asked, perplexed.

"That was the only place that we ever knew God." The bartender replied, a ghost of a smile coming over the wrinkled face. "Perhaps he will find you worthy of a miracle."

Roy smiled thinly and stood, taking his suitcase back into his hand. He placed a large sum of money on the counter. The man looked surprised and opened his mouth to object, but Roy raised a silencing hand.

"I am not worthy of God's blessings any longer." Roy said softly. "I wasn't suited with him and attempted a miracle of my own." His face was wistful, but he met the barkeep's eye.

"When humans try to play God, they are cast away from him." He said, more to himself than anything. "And they are left in the dark to atone." The man looked placid, his face faintly surprised, but his thinned eyes held understanding.

"God sees all sins the same." Came the ragged voice; he placed the shot glass next to the half-empty bottle. "Perhaps you shall reach your atonement today." Roy turned and started his walk down to the temple.

"Thanks, old man." He said over his shoulder. He headed slowly down the center of the road, his footsteps reverberating against the hollowed, thinning walls. After he was out of sight of the bar, he stopped, staring down at the massive building where he would wait, as long as need be, for whomever was to meet him there. He sighed, looking up at the sky, stars beginning to shroud the darkness that grew overhead.

God would take no pity upon him as he sat upon the steps of the sanctuary; he knew that.

"I will continue to atone." He said to the faded paintings and the pillars of the shrine.

"I stopped believing in miracles a long time ago."


	5. So Far Gone

**Under the Weight of Your Wings-**

**Chapter 5- So Far Gone**

**Raeluvs**

"So he finally arrives, oh hero of the Rebellion." A mocking voice roused Roy from the confines of a deep sleep. Vague darkness still hung over the all but forgotten city, the stars making their slow pilgrimage to the heavens and the sun bleeding pale blood over the defiled landscape, staining it with pastel tones. Black eyes slid open, blurring with the coming sun and meshing the person before him into its colors.

"You're awfully late, you damned shrimp." Roy growled, sitting up angrily, his voice hostile. Edward smiled thinly, his lips twitching with arrogance. Roy noticed the amazing similarities between Edward's expression and one that he normally wore.

'That just pisses me off.' He thought, his anger deepening. Within an instant he was on his feet, towering over Edward.

"You missed our little date." He said softly, fury eradicating in his tone. "Where were you, shopping somewhere with Alph--" He stopped in mid-sentence and looked around.

"Where is Alphonse?" he asked, feeling ridiculous. Edward cocked his head back at the train platform.

"Sent him back to Central to turn our report into Hawkeye." He said simply, "he didn't know what I found out. Protection's sake."

"That's Lieutenant Hawkeye, short-stop."

"Cut it with the small jokes, Chief."

A few moments of glaring silence hung over them. Edward sighed, annoyed and started walking back to the back of the church. Confused, Roy began to follow him.

"So why Lior?" he asked nonchalantly.

"It was on the way." Edward shrugged. "No one would expect you to come here as it's either overrun or deserted from what I've heard. I took a gamble and bet on deserted, and what do you know- I won."

Roy didn't like the setup presented to him. He didn't sound like Edward; he had his cheesy comebacks and his retorts, but his mien, his air, they were different somehow.

"Give me my information, Edward." He stopped short, slipping his hand into his pocket. A thinly sewn glove slid over his fingers; he readied his attack. Edward looked over his shoulder, boredom plain on his face.

"All your information is in there." He said, pointing at the hollowed wooden door. Roy's eyes narrowed and he took a few paces forward, stepping ahead of Edward. He heard a slight intake of breath from behind and whirled around, whipping his hand from his pocket and clasping his fingers together.

Bang.

The fire split sharply from between his clasped fingers and shot at Edward, incinerating the prepared form before him. The door from behind him spun off with a clang; Roy threw himself to the ground to avoid the deafening blast.

'What the hell was that?' he thought, leaping to his feet. Leaning against the doorframe was a figure that he recognized, vaguely.

"You always have to ruin our fun, don't you?" asked the lean person at the door. He shook his head, his violet eyes gleaming hungrily. "I told you that I had your information and yet…" he started toward Roy, the thin flap of fabric at his waist flipping with his step. Emblazoned into his leg was the blood red emblem of the Oruborus, a dragon eating its own tail.

"You're a homunculus," Roy growled, eyes constricting painfully, the pieces of the puzzle assembling in his brain. "You only knew that Hughes was dead because you were the one who killed him, weren't you!"

"He found out just a bit too much…" a flash blinded Roy for a moment. "… my husband." Gracia Hughes stood in place of the homunculus. Roy gaped, his mouth hanging open.

"You… you imitated his wife…?" Another flash; the figure leaned directly into his face, eyes just inches from his.

"Is that wrong, sir?" Riza Hawkeye's petit lips crooned delicately into his ear. Roy backed hurriedly against the wall, sweat sliding down his face. "I was just following orders…"

'It looks so like her…' he thought, his heart pounding. Her fragile figure wasn't even an inch from him; he was frozen.

"Time for you to get some sleep, Colonel," she breathed, taking a gun from the holster at her waist. Roy was beginning to snap out of his dizzied haze; in slow motion, his hand moved forward; his fingers came together…

The handle of the gun clashed against his head, and the morning sun that had risen over the dust drowned in his eyes, setting again into blackness.

* * *

"Time to get up, Roy." A distant, familiar voice drifted through the blackness. "I have new pictures to show you!"

Roy slowly opened his eyes, coming back to consciousness for the second time that day. The sight he saw almost shocked him back into the blackness he had just revived from; his body was literally trembling, shaking. But with what? He rose, horrifically unsteady, from the ground and stared into the distant eyes of the man opposite him.

"M… Maes?"

The man smiled, a wide grin that stretched to the corners of his face. A smile so familiar, one that once held such great warmth and comfort; and yet it was cold and transparent. Roy's head ached; confusion evident on his face.

"Want to see some pictures?" he asked, putting a hand into his pocket. Roy's mind was reeling; this wasn't possible. He was hallucinating, he had to be. Hit in the head one time too many, right?

Thoughts scrolled across his eyes; he wondered if all of his research had not been in vain after all. All those papers, every last damned book; were they worth the sleepless nights and midnight terrors?

'_Was it possible after all…?'_

"Maes, this is hardly the time for…" but he was cut off:

"No, Roy." Hughes pulled a few snapshots out of his pocket. "You want to see these right now."

Roy looked at him, almost painfully perplexed, and took the pictures from his hand. Staring down at them, his fingers twitched; the edges of the photographs singed.

_Riza._

Pictures of her, bound, gagged, spun across the floor. A dark red pool was becoming more and more visible as the pictures, tons of pictures, progressed. Incredulous, he flipped through them again and again; his head snapped up, glaring.

"Maes, what the hell is--" he began, then looked over at the hand the man opposite him was so casually examining.

'The… Oruborus?'

The pictures fell to the ground.

"Bout time you figured it out, old friend." Hughes's voice was grave. Roy gaped, his mouth hanging abruptly open, hands trembling at his side.

"You… you're not Maes Hughes!" he growled, ebony eyes burning with rage. The being before him looked perplexed, but mockingly so; he bent his knees slightly and prepared to spring forward.

"Oh, but of course I am... and yet somehow different." he breathed, grinning, light clashing a glare over his classes; he lunged at Roy, a shield hard as diamonds encrusting over his skin. Roy dodged, diving to the floor, clasping his fingers together once more.

"They call me _Greed _now!"

A burst of flame throttled toward him, but it merely glanced off of the protective shield that encased his body. Roy glared at the mocking laughter that echoed from within his opponent; the shield dissipated and the form of Maes Hughes remained, grinning smugly.

"This fighting is boring me," he said, "After all, Riza really can't hold out too much longer with all these distractions." Roy stiffened; his hands fell to his sides.

"Take me to her now, Greed." He growled, refusing to mention the name 'Maes' within this monster's presence. He couldn't remember anything about the person that he once was, Roy had sense enough to deduct that. Greed nodded, extending a hand toward the door at the end of the room.

"As you wish."

Roy shoved past him, taking a last look at the photographs on the floor. What would he find, past this door? Would he find Riza the way that she appeared in the photographs? A cold chill spread down his spine, an icy, unfamiliar feeling. As his gloved hand trembled above the knob he remembered that that emotion had a name:

Fear.

Grasping the knob, he twisted it roughly and threw the door open, readying his position for any attackers that he may face. Within an instant, his hand fell to his side, his knees weakening. Sitting before him, gagged at the mouth, bound at the wrists and feet, was Riza, but…

There were two.

"What the hell…" he breathed, disbelieving. Two identical Riza's, both looking horrified, sat propped up against the wall next to one another. The sight was impossible and yet…

Greed came up and put a casual hand on his shoulder and said into his ear:

"One of these Lieutenants is our friend Riza, and the other one is Envy." He explained calmly. He shoved a cold pistol into Roy's hand.

"You have one bullet. Choose wisely, my friend." Roy broke his gaze from the targets of his gun and looked at Greed, his eyes demanding recourse.

"Why do you have his face?" Roy spat in a whisper, his eyes narrowing; sweat slid down his face.

"Why?" Greed repeated, looking directly at him. He leered at him, closely; Roy could feel his breath on his face as his heart finally accepted the truth that he knew all along.

"_I am your sin."

* * *

_

**A/N: If you're confused, I'll recap next chapter 3 talk to you all later! R&R por favor**


	6. Mine and Mine Alone

**Under the Weight of Your Wings**

**Raeluvs**

**A/N: Okay, if this chapter sucks, it's due to the fact that it's a rewrite. My original (God rest it's well-written soul) perished sadly with my old computer which promptly blew up today. Yes. It blew up. Smoke came out and everything and it is now a pile of garbage that I am going to kill with a flamethrower (if I had a flamethrower) My technological weekend sucked; I soaked my cell phone and it's dead, and I killed my laptop (well, it was six years old, so…) Okay, done babbling, I apologize. So, I'm trying again. **

**Light Recap- Roy is faced with Greed, the homunculus with the expression of Maes Hughes. He's given a pistol, one shot, and the words "I am your sin". What does this all mean? Will Roy choose the right target, or will Riza meet her end? These questions will be answered and new ones will arise in this action-packed chapter of Under the Weight of Your Wings.

* * *

**

**Chapter 6- Mine and Mine Alone**

Behind the ropes and gags, Riza was strangely calm. Her face was slick with perspiration, her eyes were straining to keep blurry eyes on Roy, and the ropes cut into her wrists painfully; she looked horrified. Maybe she was; she wasn't particularly sure anymore. It was as though she was watching an old reel of film from outside herself, studying the storyline as it gradually progressed and waiting for the next event that would twist the plot. Which of the two damsels in distress would the hero choose; would he realize who the real lady was, or would he fall victim to the charms of the villainous imposter? She viewed it with vague interest and waited for the next scene to unfold.

Roy stood with his mouth hanging slightly agape, eyes erratically sizing up the form of the man opposite him. Panic was dead-set into his veins; the handle of the gun was cold against his palm. Greed looked at him almost amused, a thin smirk plain on his face, smugness scarred into his perfectly carved face. Roy snapped his mouth shut abruptly, his eyes darting to the Oruborus tattooed into his palm.

"Leave Riza out of this," Roy growled, snapping his arms straight and aiming the gun directly between Greed's eyes. Riza and Envy both respectively looked up at the sound of the name. Envy grinned to himself behind the gag; there was no way that the Flame Alchemist could ever win this. Greed looked mockingly hurt; he shrugged his shoulders. Roy stared wrathfully at this being before him,

_This monster…_

"Now why would I want to do that?" he asked, his voice sardonically oblivious.

"You're my sin." Roy breathed, his voice almost inaudible. Riza's eyes widened upon hearing this. "Mine alone."

'His sin?' she thought, observing the reel in her mind. 'Didn't the Elrics say that homunculi were created from the result of a failed…?' Behind the gag, she gasped in shock.

"Be that as it may," Greed answered, smiling as he stepped forward, "that would take all the fun out of our little game." He clamped his tarnished hand atop the barrel of the pistol and lowered it carefully, staring Roy directly between the eyes.

"Now is that how you want to waste your one bullet?" he asked, his voice scathing. Roy wrenched the gun back to his center and glared at Greed.

"This is no game! You're toying with people's lives!" he shouted, his voice caustic. Flame danced in his eyes, fury burning in his chest.

"But don't you see, Roy?" Greed asked, running a casual hand through his hair. He stepped back and leaned carelessly against the wall, sliding his hand back into his pocket. His voice was soft, but his words were cruel, carrying on the thickness of the air. "Life is a game… and if you can't win it," golden eyes glimmered under the flickering limelight of the dimly lit room, a pale glare gleaming off of his glasses.

"Then don't play."

Roy felt a tremor snake down his spine; his hands trembled so slightly on the handle of the gun. Wordlessly, he turned to face the Lieutenants that sat before him.

Ebony eyes roamed the appearance of the two; they looked remarkably alike, from the rope burns at their wrists to the creases of their clothes and even the expressions on their faces.

'There has to be some alternate plan,' Roy thought absently, 'Even if I shoot Envy, he won't die so easily; homunculi have multiple lives or can be destroyed with their weakness, which I don't know. And even if I was to kill Envy and free Riza, Greed wouldn't just let me walk out. And if I shot Riza…' his heart leaped into his throat with the mere thought.

'I'm the one gambling with people's lives, her life.' He realized, his gun wavering in twitching fingers. 'Her future depends on the pull of this trigger and I can't even tell which one is her! I…

'…_love her!'_

Envy chuckled inwardly beneath his terrified appearance. He watched Roy scour the room for some shred of hope, but his cause was in vain. Here in the bowels of this church, he was the farthest thing from God. Prayer would not save him now, and blessings would not befall this wounded lamb cast away into darkness.

'Sorry, Flame.' He thought wickedly, 'in our world, we don't do miracles, and we don't do mercy.'

Riza was tired, so tired. Woozily, her head pitched forward; she waited for the click of the trigger and the echo of thunder, a sound she was so accustomed to, one that she did not fear. The film strip repeated again and again across russet eyes like words on a typewriter, reiterating time after time. Envy cast his head to the side, appearing even more distressed.

Roy looked at the back of Riza's neck as her head dropped, catching a glimpse of red. Dried blood encrusted the nape just below her hair; he remembered the pictures of her the Greed had showed her. A dark pool had appeared around her in those photographs. Detaching himself from his fear for a moment, he looked at Envy.

No blood.

Lost in just that moment, he raised his arms rigidly and aimed his gun, so tense, on the brink of losing that shred of control. Envy watched the realization creep into his face; he scowled behind the cloth.

'Shit.'

He looked at Greed and nodded once, just enough for him to see. Greed glided beside Roy silently so as not to disturb the taciturn intensity that hung as fog in the air. His head hovered directly next to Roy's ear and he whispered,

"Bang."

Roy jerked off balance, his hand instinctively gripping the pistol in his hand. Morphing to his original form, Envy darted forward and leaped over the top of the gun, hand clamping atop the barrel and wrenching it to the side, locking directly at Riza's heart.

Click.

The room was split by a sound of thunder.

Detached, russet eyes beneath a lock of blonde hair watched the screen chatter and fray, the film twisting and spiraling off of the spool. The distant whirring of the cache droned to a distant silence as the film slowed; the last scene faded to black.

* * *

**A/N: Well, what a problem we have. Roy discovers, "Ohmygod, I love Riza!" and he shoots her. What a predicament, no? Kinda short, sorry. Stay tuned for Chapter 7- In This Darkness.**

**Raeluvs**


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